


Crash Course

by glittagal333



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: (the kinky kind of riding), A lot of sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Riding, but not for long, han solo is a sex god, i always use too many tags make me stop, luke is jealous of leia, luke skywalker is devout to this religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5739274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittagal333/pseuds/glittagal333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cocksure, tall, dark-haired and handsome, with a smile that spoke volumes of arrogance and never, ever failed to bring a flush to Luke’s cheeks, living on the finest, narrowest edges of law for a living. That was Han. Han was freedom and living unabashedly and sex."</p>
<p>Han Solo was the first real introduction of sex into Luke Skywalker’s life. And whenever he says he's going to disappear, fate manages to keep him and Luke together.<br/>Set during Episode IV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash Course

**Author's Note:**

> The request, and I quote: "Write about Luke riding Han."  
> This was initially going to be a whole lot of PWP, but my mind decided otherwise. So there's a little backstory. I mean, you could totally just skip to the smut, though, if you're into that. I'm not judging you.
> 
> A birthday gift. You know who you are.  
> Sin capital is here: http://bowdowntomama.tumblr.com

Han Solo was the first real introduction of sex into Luke Skywalker’s life.  
  
It was not an exaggeration – growing up in the desert planet of Tatooine, with his aunt and uncle on a moisture farm in, effectively, the middle of nowhere didn’t do much for one’s sexual experiences. Beru and Owen were very happy with their simple, peaceful life. Emphasis on peaceful, in all aspects – they were long married, happy and comfortable in the knowledge that nobody had to play up anything in order to impress the other anymore. And so Luke Skywalker went a solid nineteen years without exposure to any such things. Even when he woke up with a ‘complication’, sorting it out proved difficult.  
  
You needed _material_ for these kinds of things – material he didn’t have.  
  
So when he and Ben Kenobi entered the cantina in Mos Eisley and hired the services of one Han Solo and his companion, Chewbacca, Luke’s life changed in several ways – he was about to unknowingly join the Rebel Alliance, leave his home planet for the very first time and have a lot of awkward first experiences involving sex.  
  
Because that’s what Han Solo was to Luke, amongst many things, in their first encounter. Sex.  
  
Cocksure, tall, dark-haired and handsome, with a smile that spoke volumes of arrogance and never, ever failed to bring a flush to Luke’s cheeks, living on the finest, narrowest edges of law for a living. That was Han. Han was freedom and living unabashedly and, once again, sex.  
  
And before they arrived at their, unknowingly to them, doomed destination of Alderaan, it was apparent that Han’s number one goal was making Luke’s life somewhat of a living hell. Whether it was dismissing the Force as mere myth or endlessly calling him a kid or, you know, not having any issue if Luke saw him naked.  
Of course. Because they were “both guys anyway, kid.”. If one could feel new experiences as tangible things, then Luke’s of seeing Han Solo naked for the first time was the biggest, most forceful sucker punch directly to the stomach. He was sunkissed all over and taut and toned, and nothing in the entire galaxy could have prepared Luke for Han’s body hair – on his chest, on his arms, a trail that lead to the ‘X marks the spot’ of wet dreams.  
  
And boy, they came in their dozens. The time of living on Tatooine and having zilch to solve his problems with was long gone, and the droves upon droves of these dreams almost had Luke longing for those days again.  
 _Almost_ being stressed. He wasn’t about to trade Han for anything.  
  
“You know,” Han said, when they were about a day’s more travelling from Alderaan. “I can’t help but feel like I’m gonna miss you, kid, when I’ve ferried you and the old man to your destination.”  
  
He winked.   
That same night, Luke crawled into Han Solo’s bed and let the smuggler put his hands wherever he wanted, biting an orgasm he wanted to shout into a pillow.  
  
  


Obviously, that did not end up being the last time the two saw each other – no, Alderaan was a mere shower of asteroids instead of a planet, and the Millennium Falcon was captured by the Empire. An on-the-spot, daring rescue mission was carried out right in the depth of enemy territory.  
Luke lost Obi-Wan. He gained Leia, as well as more time with Han – albeit, not the kind of time a past version of himself would have wanted. No, this was a period of grief and uncertainty. The Empire had a weapon that could destroy entire planets.  
  
Princess Leia Organa demanded to be taken to Yavin 4 – she needed to return to the Rebel Alliance, and deliver the plans of the Death Star to them so that they could figure out how to destroy it – Han countered with the announcement of his departure as soon as they’d landed on the planet. He didn’t want to be involved in this war; he just wanted to be paid.  
  
Leia did not take kindly to this news, and stormed off elsewhere on the ship.  
  
“I don't know, whaddya think?” Han looked to Luke, a wry smirk on his face. “You think a princess and a guy like me—?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Luke realised he had said it far too quickly, far too defensively, but it was already out of his mouth and there was no Force ability that would enable him to take it back.  
Han couldn’t like Leia. He was just beginning to like Luke. The smuggler gave him a look that confirmed he had taken this the wrong way – that Luke liked Leia, as well, and didn’t want Han as competition.  
  
“Heh. You move on quickly, huh?”  
  
“I—I didn’t mean it like—”  
  
“Sure you didn’t, kid.”  
  
Han turned back to piloting the Falcon, leaving Luke and his cloud of conflicting emotions to brew quietly beside him in the co-pilot’s seat. As soon as they arrived on Yavin 4, Han would be gone again. Maybe it’d be another planet that had happened to have been destroyed before they reached it. The thought was incredibly selfish and horrible, and Luke scolded himself as soon as he had admitted it, but there was truth to it.  
  
He didn’t want to lose Han, even if the smuggler preferred Leia’s feminine form to his scrawny form and naivety. He didn’t want to have to conjure Han up from a handful of memories. He wanted to be able to recall new ones that had happened that very day.  
  
Luke found himself in Han’s bed again that night, at the mercy of his rough hands, his experienced mouth, desperately trying to hold back an orgasm that threatened to happen too fast, like it always did.  
  
“Come with me.”  
  
Luke opened his eyes when Han spoke up in the middle of his administrations, admiring the way the stray pieces of light in an otherwise dark room caught on his eyes, his hair, his skin.  
  
“What? Come with you where?”  
  
“You don’t wanna be in the middle of this war, kid. It’ll end badly. Just let them sort it out themselves,” a kiss to the top of Luke’s inner thigh, which made him gasp. “We could travel the galaxy together, eh? You’re a good pilot. Really good.”  
  
Luke didn’t answer him – although everything inside of him was screaming _do it!_ , there was no way he could simply abandon Leia and the Rebels. Not after seeing what the Empire could do. Not after Vader had taken Obi-Wan from him—  
  
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” Han interrupted his train of thought, dipping his head back down below Luke’s waist. “Sleep on it.”  
It turned out that all it took to quiet the moral conflict raging inside of Luke’s head was a few well-placed runnings of the tongue.  
  
  


Han left, just like he said he would.  
  
Luke barely had enough time to want to scream into his flight helmet before he was being snapped up by the Rebel Alliance, who had gone through the Death Star plans and found a vital weakness on the Empire’s superweapon. They could definitely destroy it – more specifically, a pilot could definitely destroy it, if they got close enough and fired sufficiently powered projectiles.  
  
They needed as many men as they could get against the Empire. Luke wasn’t about to refuse them, and the more selfish side of his mind knew it would provide a much needed distraction from Han.  
  
 _Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight. We could use you._  
  
Luke strapped into his X-wing, huffed a deep breath in, and then out. He was nervous. He very well knew he could die today.  
At least Han was safe. He wasn’t in the middle of this. Even if Luke did die, he thought grimly, the stupid smuggler who he couldn’t stop thinking about would be safe.  
  
 _Attacking that battle station is not my idea of courage. It's more like suicide._  
  
He flicked the ignition switches, the craft’s myriad of dashboard controls lighting up in time with the thrum of the engine coming to life. Ahead of him on the runway, he saw other Rebel crafts beginning to take off into the starry, endless expanse of space.  
He was already sweating. He should have gone with Han— _no_ , this was the right thing to do. Aid the Rebels, and avenge Obi-Wan. Save the galaxy. Be the big hero.  
Right?  
  
 _Hey, Luke?_  
  
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He managed to somewhat wipe them from under his helmet with clumsy, gloved hands before gunning the ship’s acceleration and following the rest of the Rebel army off of the tarmac and into the cosmos.  
  
 _May the Force be with you._

 

Luke was very, very sure he was going to die.  
  
The Rebel fleet had been decimated far faster than any of them could have anticipated at the merciless blows of the Empire’s, who’s far outnumbered their own. Luke had somehow survived up to this point, along with the last two Rebel X-wings circling the Death Star, looking for their inning.  
  
And Luke had found it – he was currently flying as fast as his X-wing’s engine would allow through the superweapon’s meridian trench, being pursued by three TIE fighters.  
One of them was Darth Vader’s.  
  
As much as one side of his mind was bolstering his quickly fraying confidence (you can outgun them, you can fire the torpedoes and blow this thing up, you can still be their hero), the other side was sadly becoming the more realistic of the two (you’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die).  
  
Should’ve gone with Han. Should’ve gotten as far away from this fight as you could. He wanted you to be safe. He didn’t want you to be a part of this—  
  
The flash of an explosion behind him shook him from this depressing train of thought. One of Vader’s wingmen was down, his TIE fighter having been fired on with an expert sort of precision.   
But who’d fired?  
  
Luke’s in-ear communicator was suddenly filled with a loud whooping – a voice that was so unmistakeable, he couldn’t help bursting into a grin even with the possibility of him being shot at still very mucho so alive.  
  
Han. Han had come back for him. His X-wing’s computer had picked up the signal of another, unknown craft, one with a signal so scrambled that it could only have belonged to a smuggler that wanted to remain off any sort of radar.  
The Millennium Falcon.  
  
The second of Vader’s wingmen was fired upon, the panicked pilot driving his TIE fighter right into the sith lord’s craft and sending them both careening far from Luke’s own X-wing. He was out of danger...  
Out of danger, and moments away from the Death Star’s all important exhaust port.  
  
“You’re all clear, kid,” Han’s voice came through the communicator. “Now let’s _blow_ this thing and go home!”  
  
With Han’s voice in his ears and the guidance of Obi-Wan vibrating through his psyche, Luke aimed the torpedoes and fired.

 

“Why’d you come back?”  
  
Ending up Han’s bed was becoming more of a habit rather than coincidence at this point. Not that Luke minded one bit, he thought, watching Han undress from this very comfortable vantage point. The two of them had been given medals of valour by Leia herself in a ceremony that both celebrated the Rebel Alliance’s victory and mourned the losses they had incurred up to this point. Although there were whispers of a party later on to further celebrate the victory, both smuggler and pilot had found themselves emotionally exhausted.  
  
They’d spent the rest of the daylight on this planet together, tucked away from the revellers who would more than likely have been searching for them to thank and congratulate them even more profusely than they had already been thanked and congratulated.  
Han was not the type to normally turn down the prospect of more praise, but he’d been the one who’d suggested that he and Luke celebrate together, just the two of them.  
  
The day had made way for night, as it always does, and Han had not-so-subtly given Luke directions to his assigned sleeping quarters within the Rebel base, asking him to join him there later.  
  
And here they were.  
  
“Told you already, didn’t I?” Han flashed him a smirk whilst unbuckling his belt. “Couldn’t let you take all the credit.”  
  
“Come on, Han. Be serious with me.”  
  
This seemed to catch the smuggler off-guard a little, because for once, he shut his mouth and actually thought about something before saying it. He kicked off his pants and underwear before joining Luke’s figure underneath the duvet.  
  
“I came back for you,” he admitted in a softest voice that Luke had ever heard him speak in. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you... the thought that you might...”  
  
He left the sentence unfinished, but Luke didn’t need to think hard to figure out its ending. Instead of letting Han’s mind swim in a hideous could-have-been, Luke gently placed a hand on his stubbled cheek and pressed a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet, which was soon returned with a sudden hunger on Han’s side.  
  
“You know the Rebel Alliance is evacuating this planet tomorrow,” he whispered between kisses, one hand trailing down Luke’s body and making him shiver. “We should make use of this slightly cushier bed while we can. You know. To celebrate.”  
  
Luke mentally cursed himself for being so easy whenever Han was involved, because the smuggler wrapped his hand around his already half-hard cock and flicked his thumb over the slit, making Luke spit out a curse.  
  
“Han?” he managed to get out whilst the named man went to work burying kisses in the crook of his neck.  
  
“Mmh?”  
  
“Can we... can you and me...” a hard swallow. “Do it all the way this time?”  
  
A pause followed – not even that long a pause, but long enough for a pit of dread to quickly engulf Luke’s stomach – Han pulled away from his neck and gave him an intense, slightly nervous look.  
Han Solo. Nervous. Now _that_ was something Luke thought he’d never see.  
  
“... You sure about this?”  
  
Luke nodded a little too fast, which finally broke the tension and made Han laugh.  
  
“Alright, kid. You want the full Han Solo experience, you get it.”  
  
Han gently pushed Luke’s chest and knocked him flat on his back, dotting kisses all over his torso, one hand dragging up the boy’s under-thigh. Luke’s eyes rolled back before fluttering closed – this was honestly a perfect situation.  
Saved the galaxy. Heralded a hero. About to be fucked by Han Solo.  
  
He cried out once Han’s tongue found his left nipple and the hand that had been skimming around his thigh was now ghosting the crook that sat in the trigger-happy nerve central between his cock and the meat of his thigh. The smuggler knew every spot to kiss, to nip, to drag nails over ever-so-slightly.  
Luke wondered, at one stage, whilst Han’s fingers tweaked his nipples and his tongue had now found its place in the aforementioned trigger-happy nerve central, if it was possible to come without his cock being touched, because really—  
  
“Han, you g-gotta stop,” he managed to whine between, well, whines of pleasure. “I’m gonna come before you get to, y-you know.”  
  
He emerged from Luke’s thigh, mouth wet with spit and an absolutely devilish look on his face. The hot mess he was at that moment was absolutely breathtaking.  
  
“Right. Got a little carried away,” Han admitted. “Hold on, I need to—”  
  
He dragged himself out of the bed for a moment, searching for his pants on the floor in darkness of the room. Luke raised an eyebrow, sitting up and trying to follow the smuggler’s movements.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Looking for a very vital component of what’s about to happen. Swear to God I took some off of the Falcon, put it in my pants pocket, but where _are_ the damn things..?”  
  
Well, if anything, this was a welcome relief to Luke, who felt like he was going to _pop_ if Han had so much as grazed him with his fingers only moments before now.  
Just then, a cry of victory came from somewhere on the floor.  
  
“Gotcha! Alright, kid,” Han returned to the bed holding something between his teeth, fixed in a smug smirk. “Time for something new.”  
  
Luke’s worried ears probed out the sound of something ripping as he laid back down on the bed.  
  
“Han... what’re you doing? What is that?”  
  
“It’s hopefully enough lube for this to go smoothly, that’s what it is,” Han replied, slicking three of his fingers. “You sure you wanna do this, still?”  
  
“Yeah. Definitely.”  
  
“Good. Buckle up.”  
  
Han eased a finger inside of Luke, which made the latter gasp and fist the sheets under him, entire body freezing up and going tense.  
  
“C’mon, you gotta relax a little or I’m not gonna have much to work with, here,” Han pressed a few kisses to the inside of Luke’s thigh, which did help relax his body. “Gonna go nice and slow, alright? But you need to let me do what I need to do.”  
  
“S-Sorry, it’s just _very_ new.”  
  
Han chuckled, beginning a very slowly pumping rhythm with the digit he had inside of Luke – in and out, in and out – and noticing his body starting to settle after the initial intrusion. Eventually, it reached a point where Luke let a breathy moan slip from between his lips.  
That was cue enough for finger number two, which didn’t warrant as much alarm as finger number one; in fact, Luke found it a lot easier to get used to than he would have thought.  
  
Han admired Luke’s form whilst he witnessed this wonderful, lazy sort of pleasure, making the stretching process as gentle and easy as he could possibly make it. He intended on making sure Luke went through as little pain as possible – today’s events had earned him far more than that.  
He was beautiful, Han could admit to himself. The emotional surge inside of him was very new and slightly frightening, but he didn’t cast it aside as he often tended to do with his softer emotions.  
  
No. He could hold on to this.  
  
By the time Han had worked Luke to a satisfactory looseness with all three fingers, Luke had discovered that he definitely liked being fingered, and made this distress quietly apparent when the smuggler pulled his fingers out.  
  
“We’re swapping places. It’ll make your half of this feel ten times better, trust me.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Luke asked, feeling Han pull him up on to his knees before flopping back on to what was once his spot.  
  
“You’re gonna _sit_ , you get me? Come here,” Han carefully took Luke by his hips, guiding him just above the smuggler’s very erect, slicked length. “Right here. Come on, ace pilot. This is definitely within your element.”  
  
Having Luke on top in this situation yielded many positives – for one thing, Han would be able to watch him lose it right on top of him, but it also meant that he could fill himself at his own pace, something that would probably make the process more controllable and less painful.  
  
Luke bit his lip and nodded, sinking down carefully around Han’s head and wincing.  
  
“Take your time,” the smuggler said in as level a tone he could manage with the hot, tight ring of muscle around the top of his cock. “Don’t rush it, or it’ll just hurt.”  
  
It took time, but with eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in an expression of both pleasure and slight pain, Luke sat down on all of Han’s length, finally cracking open an eye to see the older man’s expression wrecked and blessed out.  
  
“Good,” he managed, voice husky. “Now... up an’ down, at your own pace – though I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how long I’m gonna last. You look good.”  
  
Luke felt a flush creep up his face, smiling bashfully. Having Han be the one who was at risking of _flunking out_ first was a weird, wonderful new sensation.  
  
He gingerly lifted himself up Han’s cock, then back down, slow and steady, then rinsed and repeated. With each successive movement, the pain receded, and the pleasure rolled into every corner of his mind and his body. This was so good. Being full of Han was so good. Riding him was so good.  
  
As it got easier to do so, Luke picked up his pace, pumping up and down as naturally as it came to him, which was surprisingly fast, head thrown back, uncaring of how loud and wanton every sound that slipped from between his lips was.  
And Han was loving it – mousy, clumsy, scatter-brained Luke, now in perfect control of a situation that would have probably daunted him at a mere mention previously, slick with sweat, eyes shut and a work of art in the throes of it all.  
  
He looked incredible, and judging by the rhythm that was being lost and the replacement of any sort of sound with _oh, oh, oh_ , he wasn’t going to last much longer.  
Which was fine, because Han was desperately trying to hold out until Luke had finished first.  
  
“Oh f-fuck, _Han_ —!”  
  
Luke cried out, body tensing and absolutely ridden with tremors as his orgasm gripped his entire form, cock spurting seed over his own chest and on Han’s body, as well. Han promptly followed suit as soon as Luke had tightened around his cock, feeling himself spill inside of the younger man, eyes rolled to the back of his head.  
  
There was a collective, exhausted pause, both of them catching their breath before Luke carefully pulled himself off of Han’s cock, excess spillage from inside of him now free to drip out at a ludicrously slow pace. He flopped down beside the smuggler, who pulled him in close, breathing into his hair and placing a kiss on his head.  
  
“That...” Luke was honestly too exhausted to finish the sentence, but he persisted. “was amazing.”  
  
“Mm,” was all that Han managed at first. “You were, too.”  
  
The strength to form words was quickly fading, sleep’s pull tugging at both of their eyes. A final exchange was managed before they fell into slumber.  
  
“You’re not gonna go again, are you?”  
  
“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
